


A Creature I Can Love- Chapter 4

by KingdomCrumbs



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 00:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3229328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingdomCrumbs/pseuds/KingdomCrumbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the game for aragorn's heart grows more intense, and this time he will make a shocking and life-altering discovery</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Creature I Can Love- Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**

> for me ham

    Politely enough, Thranduil had offered Legolas and Aragorn to stay for as long as they wished, with all of his domain at their disposal. Legolas decided that he would always need to keep a close eye on his lover, to keep him and Thranduil separate. He kept Aragorn close as together they followed Bard up yet another twisting staircase to their room. “Are you okay?” Aragorn asked sweetly, a huge, hairy hand stroking Legolas’ soft cheek. Trying not to betray his emotion, Legolas answered quickly.

“Yes… yes, my love.” He stopped him, letting Bard crawl on ahead unaware. Legolas grabbed Aragorn by his shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes.

“How do you feel? About my dad, I mean.” Aragorn hesitated for a few moments, eyes drifting away from Legolas’ dollar bill green eyes.

“He seems like an… interesting man.” In Aragorn’s mind, the eyebrows flashed and flashed in his mind, sending a surge of arousal through him again and again, forcing him to constantly hold in his screams. He looked back at Legolas. “And I think it’s going well. You have nothing to worry about.” Aragorn bit his lower lip and twisted a lock of his hair. “I’m… yours now.” Legolas stared at him lovingly, feeling more confident with the assurance of his true love. Taking him by the gorilla hand, he continued to lead Aragorn after Bard.

    Eventually they reached their rooms. Legolas, with fright and disgust, recognized his childhood bedroom. Bard, limping and hunched, pulled a keychain from under his filthy pillowcase dress and unlocked the door, gesturing for Legolas to step inside.

“Here goes Master Greenleaf. Orders of King. Mmm,” he growled like a beast. “Elsewheres goes Master Gorn.” He immediately turned away with Aragorn trailing behind him.

“Wait,” Legolas said sternly. “What room is he in?” In response, Bard let out a long gargling cackle.

“Not with you,” he said, and continued walking. As Aragorn followed, he turned to mouth clearly to Legolas: “I’ll find you later.” Legolas tried to find comfort in a future visit from his love as he turned into his old room.

    It was as dull and barren as he remembered. He set down his satchel and sat cross-legged beside it. He needed to quell the anger flaring up inside him. This separation from Aragorn was a clear message from his father. Thranduil was taunting him, exploiting his power over the two of them.

    Leaning against his Panic! At the Disco and Death Note poster-covered wall, he closed his eyes and felt the exhaustion of his journey sink deeply into his muscles, and he gave into sleep.

    Hours later, Aragorn snuck out of his huge, luxurious master suite of a room in search of Legolas. Slinking through the hallways with his man stealth, he finally came to Legolas’ room. The door was still open as it had been when Bard had ushered Legolas inside, and there against the wall the elf was slumbering softly, hair dancing playfully against his cheeks, ears pointed in the most oh so perfect way.

    Approaching cautiously, he crouched down next to him and watched him inhale and exhale slowly. The rhythm of his breathing so comforting…

“Aragorn…” he suddenly began to whisper in his sleep. Aragorn’s heart jumped with eagerness as he leaned closer to listen, hopeful for look into his dreams. “We will always have… Our nut,” he continued. Aragorn let out a shudder as he forced himself to hold back the urge to kiss Legolas. The elf began to stir, shaking his head back and forth as if his dream had suddenly turned into a nightmare. “No… dad. No… No!” he thrashed. Not knowing what else to do, Aragorn lunged forth and shook his elf. Legolas’ eyes fluttered open and he focused on the man before him.

“A-a-a-are you alright?” Aragorn asked, voice full of worry, heart pounding.

“I-“ Aragorn slapped him.

“Never scare me like that again! I thought you were dead!” he shrieked.

Legolas, stunned, collapsed against the brown-haired man. “No… No, I’m okay,” he reassured him. Aragorn slipped the nut into his hand and smiled at him with kindness. “Okay?” he asked.

“Okay,” Legolas answered.

    Suddenly, Aragorn lurched forward, their lips and teeth smashing together violently. Legolas sat up and picked up his lover and in one smooth movement, stood up and floated over to the bed and landed on it.

    Things were getting heated—this was so much more than Legolas had even dared to hope for. Aragorn was lost in a trance, almost completely unaware of his actions. Hands fumbled at ties and buttons, lipstick was smeared across Aragorn’s face, “Carnival of Rust” played softly in the background…

    Aragorn looked up only for a moment, and his eyes strayed over Legolas’ nightstand, and then he saw it.

“W-what is that?” he stammered into Legolas’ mouth. He began to shake uncontrollably, eyes unable to tear away. “What the fuck is that?” he said with fear. Legolas, still attempting to continue, kissed at Aragorn’s face.

Without looking up, he tugged Aragorn back down to the mattress. “Come on, baby. What?”

Aragorn suddenly pushed away from him, gagging and heaving against the wall, trembling all over. “What is that?” he asked, eyes full of terror, shaking hand pointing toward the nightstand.

    Legolas, unsuspecting, looked over. The stand was cluttered with teenage elf paraphernalia: magazines, acne cream, notebooks, loose change… but atop it all stood one pink plastic horse. A pony. A My Little Pony. With horror, with pure and unadulterated fear, his eyes strayed to the tiny fedora atop its pink plastic pony head.

“No… no,” he whispered, desperately trying to explain. He fell upon it, trying to hide it, to forever remove it from the range of Aragorn’s eyesight. But as he shoved it in a drawer and turned back around, Aragorn, sobbing and stumbling, was running out the doorway and down the staircase. An unearthly howl of pain and sorrow flowed from the elf’s mouth.

 

    Tears obstructing his vision, legs weak and arms shaking, Aragorn sprinted through the hallways in a desperate attempt to escape from the horrible truth. Too weak to continue, he collapsed in Thranduil’s throne room, curled into the fetal position, sobs racking his entire skeleton.

“Can I offer you a drink?” A sweet, thick-eyebrowed voice called from behind.


End file.
